The Lost Girl
by chatiox
Summary: A girl is found in an alley with multiple gunshot and stab wounds. Later, she wakes up in the hospital and can't remember anything. Who is she?


**Author's Note: So this is my first fan fic (be nice, please). I promise that this story is going somewhere and the people you most recognize show up later. Please review to keep my inner muse happy. :P**

**Disclaimer: I do not own Bones, nor do I make any profit of it. If I did either of these things I would have the phone numbers of TJ Thyne, David Boreanaz, and John Francis Daley. Plus, I would be extremely rich!**

Chapter 1

Jerry sat in the secluded corner of the club nursing his one single glass of scotch. The boom of the speakers matched the pounding in his head beat by agonizing beat. He massaged his temples with his fingertips and winced as the strobe lights turned on. The red, blue, and white lights illuminated the gyrating bodies of the dancers which further aggravated his headache. His body yearned for nicotine, but he ignored the urge to smoke as he was trying to quit. Finally, he gave into his cravings and was about to light up when a bouncer caught his eye. The large muscled man scowled at Jerry and jerked his thumb towards the exit indicating that Club Zoo was a smoke free environment. He sighed and cursed the damn bureaucrats who made it illegal to smoke indoors.

Jerry walked out of the nightclub and into a filthy alley. He pulled a match out of his pocket and drug it against the wall beside him. When it flared to life, he cupped his hands around it to protect it from the wind that was blowing. As he was bringing the match up towards his cig, Jerry dropped it and heard a soft sizzle. He grumbled about his bad luck and started patting all of the pockets in his leather jacket searching for another match. Jerry's nicotine starved brain suddenly remembered about a nearly empty lighter in his left breast pocket. His eyes lit up in triumph as he fished it out with one hand. He flicked it once, twice, and on the third time he dropped it.

Jerry bent over and picked the lighter out of a puddle. He rubbed his fingers together, puzzled by the viscosity and stickiness of what he assumed was water. Jerry walked under a flickering light bulb and inspected his fingers; they were covered in blood! After pulling a small penlight from his pocket, Jerry started inspecting the ground around him. He followed a river of blood to a pile of flattened cardboard boxes. He pulled boxes away one by one until finding the source of blood. It was a girl who looked to be around 16 years old. Jerry whipped his cell phone out of his pocket and dialed 911.

"Hello, this is the DC Emergency Center, what is your emergency?" answered the dispatcher.

"Uh, yea, I'm at Club Zoo. There's a girl here who is injured and it looks like she has lost a lot of blood."

"Sir, the police and an ambulance are on their way. I'm going to keep you on the line until they get there, ok?"

"Ok." He answered adrenaline starting to be excreted into his bloodstream.

"Sir, does she have a heartbeat and is she breathing?" The dispatcher asked trying to help Jerry keep the girl alive until the EMTs got there.

"Her breathing is shallow and her heartbeat is faint. It's erratic." Jerry replied trying to keep his head level. He could hear the sirens from the ambulance and the police cars.

The ambulance pulled up and an EMT got out. Jerry yelled to him and motioned him back into the alley.

"The EMTs are here now," he told the dispatcher. Then he promptly hung up. The EMTs got the girl onto a stretcher and loaded her into the ambulance. The ambulance peeled away from the curb headed towards the nearest hospital. A cop came over to Jerry and asked him to come down to the station to give his statement.

"This is so much like the movies," he thought to himself while he got into the cop's car. The other cop was busy keep people back away from the crime scene. A van with _Crime Scene Specialists_ written on the side drove up and several people got out of it. They started taking pictures and collecting evidence.

As soon as the doors to the ambulance were shut the EMTs started working on getting her stabilized and determining her injuries. After she was more stable one of them started cutting off her shirt. As he removed the last shred of ruined clothing from her body he gasped at the damage down to her. Even as a cop and EMT in New York City he had never seen this much brutality. She had several gaping gashes on her chest and abdomen, most of them appeared to be either gunshot or stab wounds. As the EMT cleaned her up, he found scars, lots of them. There were white ones that were old, but there were also bright pink ones that were quite recent.

"She has got to be a cutter," he murmured to himself. That thought quickly vanished when he gently flipped her over. Scars crisscrossed her back like train tracks. The EMT's first reaction was shock; the lacerations on her back reminded him of pictures from before the Civil War: pictures of slaves that had been whipped. She had obviously been tortured at one point in time. Actually a couple points in time would be a more accurate description.

The EMT called the hospital, informing them that there was a multiple gunshot and stab wound victim coming in. She would need immediate surgery and blood, as she had lost most of her own. Suddenly her heart rate started going out of control again and her eyes opened. They wildly roved about the interior of the ambulance before settling on the EMT. Her heartbeat slowed to an almost normal pace. Even though they were clouded in pain, her eyes still held a glint to them that spoke of something hidden beneath the surface.

"I'm in an ambulance." It was a statement, not a question. She cringed in pain and lost consciousness as the ambulance went over a bump in the road. The EMT finished cleaning her so she would be ready for the OR when they got to the hospital.

As the ambulance backed into the bay a flurry of nurses came running out of the doors pulling a gurney behind them. They transferred the girl onto the gurney and rushed her to the operating room. One of the nurses stayed behind to gain information on the girl. She had been shot, probably with a low caliber handgun, four times in her torso area; twice in the stomach and twice in the chest. She had also been stabbed five times with a medium-sized knife; twice in the chest and thrice to her abdomen. Both of the girl's lungs had been pierced by the knife and were in danger of collapsing.

The surgery took a total of ten hours. She had nearly died twice, but the infusions of blood they gave her helped her to survive. The doctors were able to recover three slugs from the body, as the rest had exited her body at the scene of the crime. Each of her lungs had been punctured, but her heart remained intact beating, keeping the body alive. It was a miracle that none of her abdominal organs had been compromised by the bullets or the knife.

The first twenty-four hours were the most dangerous for gunshot victims. At the moment, she rested quietly in her own private room at the ICU. At the same time the cops were trying to find her identity. She was not a missing child and no one had recently filed a report for her, either. None of her DNA was in any of the systems, neither were her fingerprints. A press conference was called asking for any information about her. No one came forward. The FBI was called asked to investigate because of how special the case was and everyone waited for the day when the girl would wake up, if she ever would.

One week after her surgery she woke up. Unexpectedly, a light came on in the nurses' station.

"Hey, Lucy! You need to go reset the alarm in room 209, it's going off," yelled one of the supervisors not expecting the girl to be the one pressing the button. Lucy walked into the room, looking down at her shoes, angry about always being told what to do, she wasn't a lackey. She stopped at the foot of the bed and looked up into the intelligent, icy-blue eyes of the girl with no name or history. She took a step back, twirled around and left the room, running for the nurses' station. She quickly got a hold her supervisor.

"Helen, that girl in 209 is awake," Lucy said out of breath from running down the hall.

"That's impossible; the doctor said she wouldn't be conscious for at least two weeks. Are you sure?" Helen asked, irritated that she had to be bothered by a new intern.

"Of course I'm sure, if I wasn't I wouldn't be bothering you." Lucy snapped back.

"Are you sure you didn't just imagine her? You drank a lot of coffee this morning." Helen said patronizingly.

"No," Lucy replied and under her breath she added, "bitch!"

"Fine, I'll go check on her," Helen retorted testily while wondering what she could make that disrespectful intern do. She walked down the hall and looked into room 209 and jumped; Lucy was right, that girl was wide awake. Helen's first reaction was to take care of her patient, but because she was a supervisor, she was unaccustomed to dealing with them. Dumbly she asked, "Are you ok?"

Without missing a beat the girl answered sarcastically, "Yea, I'm just peachy. Not even knifes and bullets can faze me."

After standing there for a few moments in silence, Helen said, "I'm going to go get a nurse." Then she quickly backtracked out the open door. Outside, she realized that Lucy had been listening in on her conversation.

"That was quite eloquent, boss," Lucy quipped, giving Helen a taste of her own medicine.

"Shut up! You can go take care of her," Helen ordered. Lucy gulped and tried to apologize. When that didn't work, she started to make an excuse, but was cut off. "Go take care of her," Helen said in a tone that commanded total obedience. Not wanting to lose her internship for insubordination, Lucy acquiesced.

"Do you need anything?" Lucy asked.

"Actually, I have to pee really, really bad," the girl answered.

Still a little bit peeved from her encounter with Helen, Lucy answered, "That's what catheters are for."

Surprisingly the girl retorted, "But that's degrading and icky. I want to go to the normal bathroom." She jerked her head in the direction of the closed door and an audible crack filled the room. "Wow," she said, "that felt great." The girl's little outburst caused Lucy to giggle. Her demeanor became serious again, "The bathroom is literally five feet away. All you have to do is get me there. I can take care of the rest."

"No," Linda replied. When the girl opened her mouth to argue, Lucy interrupted, "You were hurt badly and if you moved around too much, you could hurt yourself even more. You don't want to be in any more pain do you?" At this point, Lucy migrated from the door over to a large blue armchair, next to the bed.

The girl grinned wickedly and said, "Isn't that what morphine is made for?"

"You have spunk. I'll give you that much, but you aren't going to be using a toilet for a little while." The girl groaned.

"Can't you at least give me something to eat? I could really go for a hamburger right about now."

"Umm, I'm not sure about that. I'd have to ask your doctor."

"So, could you go ask him?" Lucy got up from the chair and walked towards the door. "What's your name?" the girl asked hesitantly.

"It's Lucy," Not wanting to be impolite, Lucy asked, "What's yours?"

The girl's face contorted with confusion, "I'm….not completely sure."

Lucy's face remained calm, but fear still shown in her eyes. "I'll be right back with your doctor."

A few minutes later, a young Indian man walked into the room followed closely by Lucy.

"Hello, my name is Mohinder Suresh. I'm your doctor. I need to take your vitals. Is that ok with you?" Mohinder asked calmly.

"Ji." She answered quietly. Mohinder just stared at her in amazement.

"You speak Hindi?" he asked astonished.

"I guess so. That word just popped into my head. I don't remember ever learning the language." She asked perplexed that she could not remember where she had learned that word. While she had been talking Mohinder had been checking her heart, lungs, blood pressure, and temperature.

"Your heart and lungs sound very good, considering the damage that they took. Also, your blood pressure is in the normal areas and your lack of a fever tells me that none of your wounds are infected, yet." The girl and he looked at each other for a few moments. Suddenly, Mohinder remembered something, "I need to take a look at your eyes for just a moment." He held a light and watched as her pupils followed it. Mohinder turned off the little light and asked as a test, "Don't you want to know if your family is waiting for you to wake up?"

The girl closed her eyes in thought after a few seconds she opened them and grimaced. "It hurts to remember," she said. Mohinder turned to Lucy and spoke quietly with her, the girl only heard snatches of their short conversation: "No concussion…amnesia must be trauma induced….FBI…might need to see a psychiatrist…"

Mohinder turned back to the girl and noticed that she was trembling a little. "Shhhh, it's going to be okay," he said comfortingly. After she stopped shivering he told her, "In three days, the catheter can be removed and you can go to the bathroom. I don't want to get you started eating solid foods, so you're going to have to eat Jell-O for a day or two."

"I guess a day or two isn't so bad," she conceded.

"Well, I have other patients to go see, but I'll see you soon." As he walked out the door, Lucy and the girl exchanged knowing looks.

"Oh my gosh, he is just so handsome," Lucy squealed, "and he actually treats me like a human being, too."

"He smells good, like sandalwood and cloves."

"I know, right?" Lucy giggled. Someone at the door cleared their throats and both girls jumped. A tall, broad shouldered man in a black suit was standing there with a briefcase at his side.

"Hello, I'm Special Agent McCoy and I need to ask you a few questions."

**Author's Note: Finally, chapter 1 is done! If anyone read this chappie before I tweaked it a bit, could they please leave a review of what they think of the new version? I would just love it if you guys could leave a review, even if it is just to say that you enjoyed it. I also approve of constructive criticism. Remember, reviews are love (and they equal cookies)!**


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